keeping your appointments
by incense-whiskers
Summary: bruce wayne is known for his impeccable sense of timing. death, however, runs by his own clock/on anniversaries


**The Appointment**

**By: mayberry63**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the JLA or any of DC's affiliated material. However, the plot line and idea is mine.

Bruce Wayne hated getting old.

Scowling, he looked at the calendar. No, it wasn't the weakening muscles, the decline in vision, the brittle bones and slowing muscles. It wasn't his shrinking height, his losing weight or even losing the ability to continue the legacy of the Batman. No, what made him despise getting older was being treated like an imbecile, and attending all the funerals.

Bruce Wayne hated going to funerals.

The first funeral he ever attended was the one for his parents, and he had been supported by Alfred. But then so many others had died, even Alfred. Alfred the Invincible. Even as he grew up, Bruce always believed that Alfred was indestructible. Nothing could defeat him…. Except time. Time was the ultimate killer, responsible for all the funerals he had been to. He had forgotten how many of them he had seen, and he didn't want too. Too many tears, too much guilt, too many regrets and so much sorrow.

So he continued to stand there, glaring at the innocent calendar that lay on the wall. He continued to narrow his eyes on one specific date in particular, today's date. He gave it the infamous Glare of Batman, a vain attempt to make today shrivel and die.

'I'm losing my touch.' He muttered darkly, giving a sigh. Ace looked up at him. Wayne turned and studied a picture on the mantel with dark eyes. 'It wasn't supposed to be this way.' He stated to the picture before swiftly turning away and walking out of the room.

'Come on Ace, we've an appointment to keep.'

But Ace stayed for an extra minute, staring at the picture on the mantel. It was a picture of seven people. Two women were in the middle of the picture, one with wings, and the other with a tiara. One figure was tall and green with sad red eyes, another had dark skin and glowing green eyes and another male figure stood tall and proud with an 'S' on his chest. Another human male must have been his master Ace supposed, as he stood the same way, hiding on the edge of the picture, dressed in the costume he had seen so many times in the cave below the mansion. The dog stared long and hard at the last figure. This man had a happy grin, and had his arm around his master, trying to bring him deeper into the group of people.

What Ace didn't know was that this picture was the last picture where all of the seven original members of the Justice League were together. The next time they'd meet, one person would be missing.

The drive to the cemetery was quiet, allowing the first Batman to brood in peace. It wasn't supposed to be this way. He wasn't the one who was supposed to do this. He was supposed to be in a nursing home, being visited by the more time-resistant members of the league like J'onn and Diana. He and John would play chess and be annoyed by Wally. But it didn't work out that way. Bruce was left behind as he left the front line fighting to those still able and tucked himself away in his mansion. Shayara and John still lived together in New Jersey while their son fought with the League; J'onn still worked up in the Watchtower while Diana and Clark remained young and fought as valiantly as they did in the old days. But Wally went on ahead, leaving everyone behind.

He wasn't called the fastest man alive for nothing.

The limo stopped and jolted Bruce out of his musing. He stepped out of the limo and entered the Gotham City cemetery, clutching a bag in one hand and leaning on his cane with the other.

_"This way I can still bug you Bruce, even if we're dead!" _ He had joked once as he finalized papers so many years ago. Grumbling a bit, the last Wayne walked down rows of neatly lined graves and finally found the tombstone he was looking for. He settled himself down on the ground, resting his sore back against the smooth rock of the headstone. Rummaging in the bag, he pulled out a small flask of the finest Irish whiskey that Shayara could find for him as Christmas present. As he took a sip from the bottle, he reverently pulled out a worn scrapbook. Sighing, he spoke to the empty air.

'Well, I'm back. As I said I would be. No, I'm not dead yet Wallace, you'll have to wait a little longer. And yes, I brought some reading material so that I can ignore your belief that I'm crazy.'

"_Reading material? They're funny pages! You know you can't resist them Bruce. Calvin and Hobbes are immortal! Garfield is a god! And it's a sin not to read Peanuts!" Wally shook his head in mock regret. "You've been uneducated."_

Bruce downed some more of the whiskey, and slowly flipped through the pages of the comic strips that the Flash had loved to read when he was alive. Occasionally, the mouth of the former Batman would twitch in amusement at the cartoons.

'You're still a nuisance Wallace, but I still wish that you could be here reading these instead of me cutting them out and saving them for you." The elderly superhero whispered, blinking back the welling of tears in his eyes. He set the half empty flask of whiskey on the ground in front of the tombstone, and he leaned the book against the polished rock. Leaning on his cane, he forced himself back onto his feet and he stared at the shiny granite rock.

_"I'm the fastest man alive… and I'll always be faster then you Bats!"_

'You are Wally. I just hope you'll wait long enough for me to catch up,' He said. 'I'll leave the book so that you'll have something to laugh at. Other then me.' As if to answer to for the dead man, a soft wind touched the aging Caped Crusader and the sky turned a vibrant crimson as the sun set. A red akin to that used to be worn by the Flash.

'I'll see you soon Wallace.' Bruce said formally, laying a hand on the gravestone. Turning away, he walked slowly back to his limo.

The wind wandered through the graveyard, tipping over the whiskey and flipping the pages in the scrapbook of cartoons that Bruce had painstakingly put together. A minute of stillness passed and the leaves rustled loudly, an echo of the chuckle once owned by the Flash.

_Wallace West – The Flash_

_You'll always be the Fastest Man Alive_


End file.
